Don't Look Down
by Vashti
Summary: "Cause I know you've been here before. I've seen your scars. The price? It's too high. What if you fall again? Then I'll fall, too." Joy Whitlock OR That time when Clint met one of his soulmates and it was less of an "Ah-ha!" moment and more of a "Stop that theif!" kind of thing. (Soulmate AU)


**Title**: Don't Look Down  
**Author**: Vashti  
**Fandom**: MCU  
**Characters**: Clint Barton, Lila Barton  
**Rating**:PG-13  
**Summary**:"Cause I know you've been here before. I've seen your scars. The price? It's too high. What if you fall again? Then I'll fall, too." ~ Joy Whitlock  
OR  
That time when Clint met one of his soulmates and it was less of an "Ah-ha!" moment and more of a "Stop that theif!" kind of thing.  
**Length**: ~2900  
**Spoiler**: pre-Avengers, so no spoilers  
**Disclaimer**: Only the words are mine, and that's probably up for philosophical debate.  
**Author's Note**:LadyWinterlight inadvertently issued me a challenge when she gave me the plot to one of her stories from her series A World of Soulmates (in which the Barton family grows primarily via soulbonds) but how she couldn't have seen that working out without the Bartons being poly. In my head, and in my response to her, I went, "Ugh! An amazing sounding story that I can't read because it will trigger a mental health spiral. Grr! Argh!" My muse, on the other hand, went, "Challenge accepted!" I thought the muse was joking. All of this was happening in the middle of the TwistedShorts annual Fic-a-Day ficathon over on livejournal during one of my busiest months. Apparently the muse was *not* joking, but rather pondering and percolating in the background until this happened. So. Yeah. Enjoy!

* * *

"Hey! _Hey!_ Get back here!" Clint shouted. He'd felt the hand that brushed his back pocket—he'd felt all the hands that brushed his back pocket, including the grabby grandma. Most of them were innocuous, even the dirty old lady's, but this one…

Trained agent and former carnie, he spotted her almost immediately. But she was young and small and fast and nimble. She'd already been fleeing the scene of the crime—his back pocket!—when he turned around to call her out.

If it had just been his wallet, Clint would have let her have it. He hadn't gotten enough of a look at the kids to be know, but he was sure she was underfed and desperate. It was a feeling he'd known well for, what still was, most of his life. Some cash, and cards that were going to be deactivated within the hour were nothing. Even his SHIELD badge wouldn't get her far without the correct biometrics. But the kid had swiped from his _other_ pocket. A pocket that contained secure and dangerous intel. Unlike his wallet—a ballistic nylon that had managed to fit into all but the most rarefied circles—the intel was in an RFID blocking leather pouch. It had purposefully been designed to look like a standard American men's wallet. Too well, apparently.

Clint swore. He didn't know who was in more trouble, himself for letting it get away or the kid just for having it in her possession. Clint was being tailed. He knew it. Hopefully the other side was still fooled by the pouch's appearance—that was its purpose after all—but if they weren't, then this street kid was in a world of trouble. Which was the real reason Clint was shouting his lungs out and doing a passable impression of a bear in a tea shop.

Finally, at the corner of a major intersection, there were too many people for even the girl to slip through. He could see her trapped and looking for a way through. Clint's body language changed. He went from barreling through the crowd to slipping in and around both plodding tourists and determined natives.

His hand clapped on her wrist just before the hole she was looking for opened up. Clint pulled her close, arresting her forward momentum, even as felt electricity zing up his arm. With his arms covered by a light jacket, he couldn't see it but he'd witnessed it before: this girl's name, whatever it was, was being written in a line up his arm. Judging by the pain, he'd guess right up the middle where he'd see it every time he shot his bow.

This girl, this child, was his soulmate.

Clint swore and pushed up his jacket and sleeve with his free hand. The girl simply stared. Somehow-despite their differences in age, the circumstances of their meeting, and how briefly they'd known each other-they were one in mind, in will, and emotion.

"You alright, there, sir? Miss?"

For a second, Clint forgot the ruckus he'd been making and in the heart of Tourist Town, New York City. You couldn't sneeze without a cop saying gesundheit. This one happened to be mounted, watching the scene from behind her dark sunglasses atop a large (and quite beautiful) chestnut horse.

Clint had to shake himself back into the moment. "Uh, yeah. Yes, I mean yes, Officer. Everything is fine. Caught her before she could run out into the street," Clint said, trying to channel Coulson at his most paternal. "What the hell were you thinking, young lady?"

"So you know this man?" the cop said to the girl.

Clint tried to keep from tensing, but knew that his fingers had gone rigid around the girl's wrist.

Who smiled sunnily up at the cop. "Yes, ma'am. Of course! He's my dad. See." And with that, the little miscreant pushed up the sleeve of a raggedy sweater and showed off Clint's name written in his own chicken scratch hand.

"Can I see some ID, sir?" the cop said. She probably had people telling her bald-faced soulmark lies all the time.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Lila, honey, please don't run off this time."

She nodded and giggled, covering her mouth her hands as soon as Clint released her. He was pretty sure the giggles were from excess adrenaline and not girlish giddiness, but it struck the right tone. So long as she _did_ stay put…

Clint fished his actual wallet out of his back pocket, flipped to his photo ID (and SHIELD badge), and handed it over. While the cop looked over the ID and…was she copying down Clint's SHIELD agent info?...Clint shot a look at the girl. Lila, according to the tattoo on his arm in a youthfully clumsy cursive met his stare with wide eyes. He held out his hand at waist level, where it wouldn't easily be seen by the crowd, and she wordlessly passed the leather pouch over to him.

Relief made him a little giddy himself. Besides, he'd met a soulmate. The sleight of hand he did to put hide the leather pouch away was unnecessary, but the gasp of surprise and delight from Lila made it worth it.

It was into that moment that the cop said, "And I assume you have her name on your arm, Agent Barton?" She leaned down to hand the wallet back.

"Of course!" Clint purposefully stretched the newly tattooed arm up to meet the cop's.

"Lila Cooper? Not Barton?"

Clint shrugged. "Big brother. Figure if we have another the names'll go right up my bicep."

"I don't see a ring or any pictures."

"Life of an agent," Clint said placidly. The question felt routine, not searching. When he reached for the girl, for Lila, she stepped into his side and slung an arm around his waist. Clint didn't miss the way her hand went searching for the "disappeared" leather pouch without finding it.

The cop nodded. "Understandable. Young lady…"

"Yes, Officer?"

"Make sure you stay close to your father. It's not every family where parents and kids share soulmarks, and it's easy for trouble to happen in a place as busy as Time Square. I would hate to see either of you on the 7 o'clock news."

Lila nodded, fingers flexing convulsively into Clint's side. "Yes, ma'am."

"All right then. You two enjoy the rest of your stay in the Big Apple."

"Um," Clint stepped in close to the cop's horse. "You wouldn't happen to know anyplace close where we can just sit and regroup. Maybe the decisions that brought us to Times Square at, apparently at peak lose your child time?"

The cop smiled for the first time. "Sure thing. There's a place I go to with my own kids. They're older than your daughter, but I think she'll like it. She like fish?"

* * *

By the time they were seated in the dim little Thai seafood place, creatively named One Fish Two Fish, an avenue and several streets away from the heart of Times Square, Lila had become the sullen and withdrawn child Clint had expected to capture at the beginning of their little adventure.

Their waitress took their drink orders before leaving them alone to peruse the menu and talk. "So," Clint started, "Lila Cooper, huh?"

"I'm not doing you," she said quietly enough not to be heard beyond their table, crossing her arms over her narrow chest. "Or turning tricks or whatever," she added as if remembering previously given advice.

"What? No!" Clint only barely remembered to show the same amount of restraint that she had, in turns horrified that she thought he wanted anything sexual from her and enraged at the kind of experiences that must have given her those ideas. "How old are you, even? Eight?"

"I'm almost eleven!"

Honestly, she had the coltish length of an early teenager. Clint had purposely rounded her age down, partly to show that he considered her far too young for anything sexual (though he knew far too many who would have considered the ages he threw out perfect for their tastes), and because seeing her angry was better than her muted fear.

"Well I don't date people who are more than thirty years my junior."

Lila frowned. "How old are you?"

"Forty-four."

Lila's frown turned into horror. "You're ancient"

"Gee thanks, kid."

"But you're almost _fifty._"

"First of all, I'm closer to forty than fifty. Second of all..." Clint rubbed his fingers across his forehead. "Now I'm sure you're my soulmate."

Lila stiffened once again.

Clint fought the urge to reach across the table and take her hand or pull her to his side of the table and have her sit next to him. They'd get there eventually, but at the moment he had to prove to her that her soulmate was a good guy, not a dirty old man. "Why'd you tell that lady cop that I was your dad?"

Shrugging she said, "Because she probably would have taken us both in, you _are_ my soulmate, and I guess you look old enough to be my dad."

"I _am_ old enough to be your dad."

Lila shuddered overdramatically.

" And so far those are the only kind of feelings I have for you. Maybe someday you'll graduate to little sister." He studied her, poking around at his still fledgling feelings as he did. "Ye-ah...all I've got are dad-vibes over here." He didn't have a whole lot of experience with this dad thing, but

Shrugging again, Lila wrapped her arms around herself and slumped in her seat—defensive, self-soothing, and making herself small all at once. "I never had a dad. And all the dads I know are… They're not like what you see on TV," she said in a rush, eyeing him.

Clint's laugh came in a huff as his stomach churned. He sat back and wrapped his own arms around himself. "Don't I know it, kid.

"So. We're soulmates."

Lila mimicked his pose. "Yeah."

"Do you know that means?"

Shrugging in a way that was probably supposed to convey nonchalance, but spoke more of ignorance, Lila said, "It's the other half of your soul. In another person."

"Maybe in cheap romance novels, but that's not how it works in real life. Do you know what a soul is?"

Eyes and face scrunching together, Lila looked more like the ten year old she was than the eleven year old she wanted to be. "I don't know. That part of you that makes you you and makes you compatible with your soulmate forever?" She shrugged. Hard.

Cracking a small smile, Clint reached for his water glass and took a sip. Setting it down, he said, "The simplest definition I've heard that also makes the most sense is that your soul is your mind, your will and your emotions. Basically what you think, what you will or won't do, and your feelings. Got it?"

"Yeah?"

"Does it make sense?"

"Sort of, I guess." Lila shrugged and reached for her own water glass. Instead of sipping and putting it back, she hugged it close to her chest. "What does that have to do with soulmates?"

"So glad you asked, Miss, so glad you asked!" he said with his best carnival voice. It didn't quite get the reaction he was hoping for, but the smile Lila cracked wasn't half bad. He even got a flash of teeth when he threw in some jazz hand action as she tried to smother a giggle.

"Basically," Clint said with only a little more seriousness, "you _aren't_ a soulmate, you _become_ a soulmate. As you get to know someone and discover who they are versus who you are, sometimes those three things-"

"Your mind, your will and your emotions."

"Yeah, them. With some people those things start to align. When they mostly perfectly align-"

Lila's eyes narrowed. "Not perfectly perfectly?"

Clint shrugged. "People are always changing their minds. Emotions..." He wiggled his hand. "...flip-flop. It's complicated. But having a soulmate means that...at your most basic, you and your soulmate are in perfect agreement."

"And...we're...soulmates. So that means we're basically the same."

"Yup."

Lila made a face and would have probably said something like _Whatever, old guy_ but the waitress chose that moment to come back. "You two ready to order or you need some more time?"

Clint took a deep breath through his nose, uncoiled himself and sat up. Letting out the breath, he smiled up at the waitress. "I think we're gonna need a little time."

* * *

They were standing at the register near the door, Clint with his wallet open, when his phone rang. Clint fished it out and swore silently.

He handed Lila the wallet. "Can you do this?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "You trust me to pay?"

"Any reason I shouldn't, kiddo?"

For a moment, her mouth gaped like the sea bass she'd just eaten, then she nimbly took the wallet from his hands.

Clint hit _Answer_ on his phone as he pivoted away from the register, their waitress, and Lila. "Barton. Hold on…" Pressing the phone to his chest, he bounded back to Lila's side. "Don't forget the tip."

"You left it on the table."

"You're sure?"

Lila rolled her eyes and pointed back to where they were seated…and where several bills were standing neatly between the salt and pepper shakers.

Clint flashed her a smile before turning away again. "Okay, Barton back. What can I do you for, Phil?"

"Your employee records have just been flagged for review by the NYPD. Do you want to explain?"

"Ran across a cop while picking up the package. Had to show ID. I wondered if she was taking down my agent info. Guess she was."

"And did you also happen to tell her that you have a soulmate mark on your inner arm?"

Clint felt his face go hot. "Uh, maybe?"

"Was that a necessary part of your cover?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Sure?" Clint could hear Coulson's raised eyebrow. "Is there something I should know, Agent Barton? Because of the marks you have, neither are on your arms." Considering that the last time Clint had shown up with a new name written on his body he'd also brought back the infamous Black Widow, he supposed that Coulson had a reason to be concerned.

"Um, we're gonna have to update my records?"

"As of when?"

"What time did that cop make the inquiry into my file?"

"Clint…" And now he was pretty sure Coulson was rubbing his forehead.

"Look, I can explain when I come in, but, needless to say we're gonna have to update my health insurance. And my life insurance. And I'm gonna have to tell the boss." Not something he was exactly looking forward to. He could hear the conversation now, _Hey honey, guess what I brought home from the last mission? An angsty pre-teen! Surprise!_

"Will I also need to rent you an apartment? You do have this bad habit of sleeping on base."

"Yeah…well…" Clint glanced back at Lila, who was talking happily with their pleasant (and probably bored) waitress, "We'll discuss and you'll tell me what you think."

"Clint…"

"Hear you loud and clear, Phil. See you in an hour."

"With your soulmate."

"Yessir." The connection went dead. Clint imagined it had more to do with Coulson needing to pop an aspirin while his admin pull the needed paperwork to update his files and work forms, than a sign of things to come.

Clint wandered back over to Lila. "Hey, you wanna meet my supervisor?"

Smiling fondly, the waitress said her final goodbyes and wandered away. Lila narrowed her eyes. "That's not, like, code for meet up with the head of your human trafficking ring, is it?"

"Geez! No, kid! I swear. I'm an agent of SHIELD."

"What's a Shield? I mean, duh, I know what an actual shield is, but what is your _organization_, Shield?"

Clapping his hand on her shoulder, he steered her in the direction of the doors. "I'm glad you asked. SHIELD is short for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Lila stopped moving, staring at him open-mouthed for a long moment. "You work for _who?_"

"And now you see why we just call it SHIELD. C'mon, kid, gotta meet Coulson in an hour," he said, gently pushing her along again. "It shouldn't take us that long just to get to Brooklyn, but you can grab a shower and we'll figure out some new clothes when we get there."

Clint had just herded Lila out the door when she suddenly stopped, turned and looked up at him. "What if… What if they take me away? What if they want to put me in foster care or something because I'm too old and you're like a single dad and you work at some crazy fancy strategic enforcement thing?"

"Not gonna happen, kid," Clint said, pulling Lila into him for a side-hug as they stood in the between the cool dark and bright sunlight in the restaurant threshold. "You're my soulmate. Whatever it takes, wherever this goes, I'm here for you. We'll figure it out," he added pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before releasing her. He took her hand in his, the hands that shared soulmarks. "Believe me?"

"No," she said with a soft shake of her head. "But I want to."

Clint swore he felt her name being written on his heart.

Fin[ite]


End file.
